


The Taylors Three - Discourse

by theoriginaldylan



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Comedy, M/M, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginaldylan/pseuds/theoriginaldylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two in The Taylors Three Collection, the tour bus rumbles on, and the band members are bored.  What do they do to bide their time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taylors Three - Discourse

"How I loathe the American east coast.  Not a thing to look at," Simon commented, gazing outside the window to his right at the pavement rumbling by.  He was sprawled casually over two seats in the tour bus, leaning his head in his right hand and watching the dull scenery. 

John looked up from the paper he was reading.  He was sitting across the aisle from Simon next to the window, with Nick on his right.  The two of them were sharing a Sunday New York Times, reading quietly and occasionally commenting to one another on interesting articles.  John leaned forward to look past Nick at Simon.  Up until now Simon had been very quiet, and they had all been enjoying a peaceful ride.  "Bored, Charley?" John asked.

Roger's ears perked up from the rear of the bus.  He was sitting at the table, watching Andy play solitaire across from him.  Andy and Roger now looked at one another, a worried look crossing both their faces.

"Hell yes, I'm bored!" Simon called, turning away from the window and looking over at Nick and John.  Simon sat up and leaned across the aisle, slapping the newspaper on Nick's lap.  Nick jumped slightly and looked over at the source of the interruption.  "Wake up, Nick!" Simon said.  "Talk to me," he whined.

Nick looked at Simon and pondered his demand.  "No," he said quietly, and turned back to his paper.

Simon faced the seat in front of him and folded his arms, pouting.  He turned his head back to the window, regarding the breakdown lane of the endless highway with disdain.  He turned back to Nick, who had raised his newspaper to his face and was successfully hiding from Simon's gaze.  Simon craned his neck towards the rear of the bus, trying to catch a glimpse of Andy, but Andy was studying his card game and carefully ignoring everything around him.  Roger's back was to Simon, and he had his own eyes pinned on Andy's cards.  Simon turned back to face the seat in front of him, agitated.

John closed his eyes and waited.  He knew from experience that if Simon didn't say anything for another thirty seconds or so, he would just curl up in his seat and take a nap, or wander into the back room and watch television.  John prayed that this would be a quiet road trip, and it had been peaceful up until a few moments ago.

"Missy Elliot!" Simon called out, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the bus.

John opened his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.   _Damn_ , he thought.   _Here we go._  He went ahead and took Simon's lead, responding,  "Pretty good."  He sounded indifferent. 

"I like the samples on her latest album; she's got a good sense of groove," Roger said, also somewhat noncommittal.

"Funky, baby," Andy called.

Nick finally lowered his paper back to his lap.  "Personally I prefer her recent forays into production.  But I do enjoy most of her work," he said, peering at Simon across the aisle.

Simon nodded.  "Good enough," he said, uncrossing his arms and turning to look out the window.  He chewed his lip, thinking.  "Radiohead!" he called out.

John perked up in his seat.  "Fucking amazing," he exclaimed, slapping his newspaper for emphasis.

"Incredible!" Roger agreed from the rear.

"Bloody brilliant!" Andy cried, slamming a card on the table.

"Adore them," Nick said, turning his eyes back to the newspaper on his lap.

Simon nodded with approval.  "Mike Oldfield!" he blurted out.

"WHO?" Andy yelled from the table.

" _The Exorcist_ ," Simon called, craning his neck towards the back of the bus.  "Opening titles!" he clarified. 

John tapped his finger on his newspaper.  "Definitely ahead of his time.  Very New Age but still reasonably palatable," John mused.

"I think he's a talented musician, but I don't care much for that brand of ambient work," Roger remarked.

Andy had stopped playing his game and was looking at Roger with a disturbed expression.  Roger raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are you going to pass on this one?"

Andy scowled.  "No, Roger, I did not wish to _pass_ , I know damn well who Simon is referring to," he said angrily.  He cleared his throat and addressed the bus.  "I am less impressed by his compositions than I am by his musical talent."  Andy paused, tapping his cards on the table and thinking.  "He didn't play guitar in his later works like he did on _Tubular Bells_.  He was rather good on the guitar.  But he shunned them for bloody computers.  Bastard!"

Roger was looking at Andy curiously.  Andy scowled one more time and returned to his game.

Nick kept his eyes on his newspaper.  "Excellent reading music," he remarked simply, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Simon put one hand to his temple and concentrated.  "Compare and contrast:  Elliot Goldenthal and John Williams.  Soundtrack scores," he called out.

John chewed his lip, thinking hard.  "I prefer Goldenthal.  Williams had a groundbreaking approach for Star Wars, but he's been replicating it tirelessly ever since."  John looked out the window, still pondering the question.  "Goldenthal.  Absolutely.  Williams is a great composer, but too commercial.  He gives what the audience expects and tends towards the predictable.  I for one prefer to be stunned once in awhile."  John nodded to himself, confident with his answer.

Simon craned his neck towards the rear of the bus.  "Taylor?" he called.

"Thinking!" Roger and Andy both yelled back.

The bus was quiet for a moment, until Roger finally spoke.  "Goldenthal," he said.  "I agree with John.  Williams has a knack for grandiose and dramatic orchestral scoring, but the style is indeed repeated for every film."

Andy put down his cards and picked up his cigarettes.  He lit one and turned to look out the window, smoking and contemplating the question.  "Goldenthal.  Williams is too damn Wagnerian."

Nick and John eyed each other in their seats.  Nick leaned over and whispered to John, "Did he just say Wagnerian?"  John nodded, replying in a hushed tone, "Who knew?"  The two of them tuned their ears back to the rear of the bus, where Andy was still looking out the window and considering how to elaborate his response.

"Bloody Leitmotivs," Andy continued, taking a drag from his cigarette and musing over his point.  "Williams listened to Tannhauser too many damn times."  Andy returned his gaze to the table, where Roger was eyeing him with surprise.  "I mean really!" Andy exclaimed.  "That Jurassic Park theme?  God!  I want to shoot myself every time I hear it!"  Andy started singing in his seat, wailing a sarcastic rendition of the repetitive musical segment in a falsetto.  He finally stopped singing and shook his head, picking up his cards and mumbling again, "Bloody Leitmotivs."

Simon was looking down the aisle with mild shock.  "How astute of you, Andy," he said, somewhat alarmed by his friend's operatic knowledge.

Simon finally turned to Nick, who was also looking rather stunned.  Nick shrugged and said, "I believe the Taylors have summed up my own thoughts nicely."

Simon nodded, satisfied.  He turned back to the window to contemplate his next question.

"Charley!" Roger yelled from the back.

"Yes, Roger!" Simon yelled, still looking out the window.

"Make it easier this time.  I'm afraid Andy is about to blow a few brain cells."  Roger grinned across the table at Andy, who was looking at Roger with his eyebrows furrowed. 

"Sod off!" Andy snarled, and returned to his cards.

Simon turned his attention back to the bus.  "Pop music, then.  How about Backstreet Boys and N'Sync," he proposed.

"Well at least they can both sing," John commented dryly.

"Cookie cutter teenage pop," Roger remarked, tapping one of Andy's card piles with his finger.

"Bloody awful.  Both of them," said Andy, slapping a card down right where Roger pointed.

"Catchy music, great marketing, they'll both fade out without a trace and be replaced by the next hot trend," Nick commented.

Simon shrugged.  "Okay, the jury's still out on that one," he said thoughtfully.  "Christina and Britney," Simon offered.

"Christina.  No argument there," John said.

"Christina, absolutely.  That woman has a great deal of talent," Roger said.

Andy lifted his head towards the ceiling, closed his eyes, and squealed, "I'm a genie in a bottle..."

Simon chimed in, "You gotta rub me that right way!" and started running his hands over his chest.

Nick looked over towards Simon smiling mildly with amusement.  "Christina," he said quietly.

"Excellent!" Simon declared, clapping his hands.  His face lit up with excitement as he thought of the best question yet.  "Destiny's Child and T.L.C."

John turned his head towards Simon, who was regarding him expectantly over Nick's head.  John considered his answer and said carefully,  "Destiny's Child."

Simon turned his head towards the rear of the bus.  "Destiny's Child," Roger stated.

Andy yelled, "Bootylicious!"

Simon smiled and started singing, "Can you handle this...oooh...can you handle this..."

John started snapping his fingers and joined in.  "Tell me, can you handle this..." and together they shouted "Cause my body too bootylicious!"  Simon laughed with glee and grinned broadly at Nick.

Nick shook his head but smiled in spite of himself.  Simon leaned across the aisle and gazed at Nick with a seductive gleam in his eye.  "Well, Nick?  Can you handle this?"  Simon reached over with his right hand and traced a lazy trail down Nick's right arm with one finger, settling finally on Nick's hand and making small circles on his skin.

Nick's eyes followed Simon's finger and then slowly traveled up his arm.  His eyes settled briefly on Simon's neck, and then continued to rest on his mouth.  Nick inhaled loudly and bit his lower lip, finally raising his eyes to meet Simon's lust-filled gaze.

Simon traced his finger over Nick's thumb touching now with more force.  He moved his finger up to the tip of Nick's thumb and started rubbing in a slow, rhythmic motion.  Nick's breathing quickened slightly and he parted his lips, leaning across the aisle until his nose was mere inches from Simon's.

Simon moved his whole hand over Nick's and clasped it firmly.  He started leaning forward a bit more, closing the gap between them, when Nick spoke.  "T..." Simon stopped moving and his brow furrowed.  "L..." Nick's eyes roved Simon's face languidly and he finished in a husky whisper:  "C."

Andy slammed the table with his hand, disrupting his cards and causing Roger to jump with surprise.  "You did that on purpose!" he yelled.

John shook his head and moaned.  "Not fair," he mumbled.  "Not fair."

Nick was still leaning across the aisle and looking at Simon, who was now regarding Nick with fury.  "You're lying," Simon said, removing his hand from Nick's and returning it to his lap.

Nick shrugged.  "If you say so," he said, and leaned back into his seat.

Simon stood up quickly, hovering over Nick.  "Now you're being passive aggressive," he remarked angrily.

Nick looked up at Simon seriously, all humor gone from his eyes.  "Do you want my opinion or not?" he demanded.

Simon folded his arms.  " _Do_ enlighten me."

Nick briefly composed his thoughts.  He was unaware that John had leaned his forehead against the window and was murmuring to himself.  "I happen to prefer TLC's hip-hop and old-school funk flavor over Destiny Child's rather bland R & B," Nick declared.

Simon's eyes opened wide.  "Bland?!" he exclaimed, insulted and surprised.

Back at the table Andy was looking at Roger and mouthing over and over again, "On _purpose_."  Roger could only roll his eyes in agreement and shake his head.

Simon continued, blue eyes alive with anger.  "You are ignorant, Nick!  Destiny's Child has the same, if not better hip-hop influence then T.L.C. ever had, especially considering..."

Nick interrupted loudly, "I gave you an opinion, Charley.  You have yours, and I have mine.  Can we leave it at that, please?"

"No!" Simon yelled.  "Not when it is the wrong bloody opinion!"

Nick stared at Simon harshly.  "You are such a child, Charley."  Nick grabbed the pieces of newspaper from John's lap, put them on top of his own, and stood up with the whole New York Times clutched to his chest.  He looked up at Simon and scowled, "Leave me alone."  He brushed past the surprised Simon, knocking him with his hip, and stormed to the back of the bus, entering the back room and kicking the door closed behind him.

Simon watched Nick disappear and then turned his head to John, who was staring at his lap wondering how his reading material had so quickly disappeared from under his nose.  "Can you believe the nerve?" Simon asked John, pointing at the rear of the bus.

John looked up and raised his hands in the air.  "I'm not getting involved," he said, shaking his head furiously.

Andy slammed the table again.  "Well I am!  Sit your arse down, Charley, and shut the hell up!" he exclaimed.

Simon whipped his head around and squinted harshly at Andy.  He pursed his lips and started marching to the rear of the bus with purpose.  "Charley, no!" John yelled, standing up and watching him helplessly.  Andy tried to leap out of his chair with the intention of tackling Simon if necessary, but instead he managed to smack his knee on the underside of the table.  Andy sat back down heavily, biting his lip against the pain.  Simon went straight to the door unhindered, opened it, and stepped in.

"BLAND?" he yelled at Nick, closing the door finally behind him.

John stamped his foot with frustration.  "Nice job, Andy!" he declared sarcastically.

Andy put his head on the table and moaned, rubbing his knee with his hand.  "At least I tried," he mumbled into the table.  "Roger didn't even move."

John marched over to the table and looked down at Roger expectantly.  "He would have gone in there no matter what we tried," he explained.  "At least I saved myself from physical harm," he added, motioning towards Andy.

"God I need a drink," Andy said.

John sat down next to Roger.  "The icebox is in back.  Feel free to go in there and grab something.  And while you're at it, get me a Diet Pepsi," John said dryly.

Andy lifted his head slowly.  He cocked an ear towards the door behind him and heard Simon and Nick both yelling in loud, harsh voices.  "Forget it," he moaned, disappointed.  He regarded John and Roger across the table.  "Nick did that on purpose," he said.  "Bastard."

Roger started picking up the cards spread around the table.  "Of course he did," he stated simply.  "We all know it's part of their warped brand of foreplay."  Roger shrugged.  "I guess Nick was feeling a little feisty."

"He took my blasted newspaper," John whined, wondering how he was going to occupy his time for the rest of the trip.

Roger placed the cards in the middle of the table in a tidy stack.  "Hearts, anyone?" he asked.

John moaned.  Andy crushed his smoldering cigarette into the ashtray, then snatched up his pack and lit another one.  "Come on, John, I think you're leading."  He leaned over and picked up a notebook from the floor.  Andy plopped it onto the table and flipped through twenty pages of numbers, studying the final page carefully.  "John: 2,957.  Roger: 2,986.  Me: a pathetic 3,035."  Andy looked up at John, who now had his arms folded and was pouting.  "Come on, mate, I'm losing horribly.  Give me a chance to close the gap," he pleaded.  "We only have two weeks left on the tour."

John looked at Andy and then Roger.  They were both regarding him expectantly.  John turned his attention to Andy and said, "Give me a cigarette."

Andy took a deep drag off his own cigarette and eyed John.  "I give you one, and you play."

John uncrossed his arms and leaned over the table, reaching for Andy's cigarettes.  Andy reached them first and slid them closer to his side of the table, protectively.  John looked at Andy and scowled.  "No hearts, no cigarette," Andy stated, taking another drag and blowing the smoke into John's face.

John sighed and leaned back into his chair.  "Fine," he groaned.  "Give me one and shuffle the damn cards."

Andy pushed the pack to John and snatched up the deck of cards.  He started shuffling with a smug look on his face.

Roger turned to Andy and remarked, "Wagner?"

Andy started dealing the cards.  "What, you don't think I know anything about opera?"  Andy sounded insulted.

John leaned over towards Roger and said quietly, "He read the liner notes."  John smiled and sat back in his chair as Roger put his hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle.

Andy glared at John and pointed a finger in his face.  "That's it.  I'm going to beat you in this game.  I'm not playing nice anymore!"  He picked up his cards and leaned back in his chair, studying them carefully.

John picked up his own cards and started arranging them in his hand.  "If we aren't interrupted, of course."

All three Taylors tuned their ears to the rear door.  Simon and Nick were both still yelling in angry tones.  "Whose turn is it, anyway?" Andy murmured.  Roger raised one hand briefly, keeping his eyes on his cards, looking at them thoughtfully.  Andy added, "Could you fetch me the first bottle of liquor you see when you go back there?"  Roger nodded, starting the game with the three of clubs that was in his hand.

John put his King of clubs on the table.  "Grab me a Diet Pepsi, as well," he commented.

And the Taylors played on...


End file.
